The Profile Family
I think that I am finally realizing that we are, in fact, a “profile family.” We are up in the air, free falling, and waiting to see if we will land on grass, rock or hit a trampoline that will rebound us high up and back to our dropping point.
Mr. Hooah! and I had our billionth conversation tonight about the “what ifs” and the “Yeah, buts” and my all time favorite of “If this, then that.” So many uncertainties! Unfortunately those uncertainties do not provide for the very practical needs of a mid-life family. It was during this last conversation that I finally accepted that we are all part of this “profile.” Mr. Hooah! is living with an overwhelming amount of uncertainty, and we are sharing this journey with him as a family.
He does not know how long it will take for him to be taken off of profile. He does not know if anyone will hear his case and give him the time he needs to heal enough to jump back into the game where he left off. The doctors have been very optimistic, and they keep reassuring us that he will heal just as good as new. He needs time and rehab. Chances are though, and it is looking more like this is what will be offered to him, is that he will be told to go enlisted while he rehabs and then in one year he can reapply. The snafu in that offer is in one year he will be beyond commissioning age. So essentially that offer will drop us to a pay level that we were only planning on living at for a year. Actually he would go down a rank in pay, so it would be even less.
If we were younger and did not have a kid in college and another headed that way, then we would probably take the risk. At what point does a risk become “too” risky? If this had happened post Tradoc then things would be different, no doubt. Unfortunately it happened at a very pivotal point. Neither of us wants to walk away, so if we do it was simply because the path totally, utterly, painfully and abruptly dead ended on us. If we go forward it doesn’t mean the path is straight, flat and well paved… it simply means that we can see there is hope that it will lead us to some destination that is viable for us as a family.
This would not be as hard as it is if Mr. Hooah! had simply changed companies he was working for. There are several other huge Chemical Companies out there. It would not have been so hard if he had switched back to his previous career in the fine arts (he is still successfully selling book covers he has painted, even now). It would not have so painful if all it would mean was changing locations. It’s not that easy though. This was not just a career move for my husband. There was a lot of planning, preparing, working and sacrifice put into this. Actually that goes for us all as well. I do have to admit that there has been a lot of dreaming too. We were living that dream until his leg broke. Make no mistake that the best part of that dream, and the biggest benefit to us, has been the community of people we have come to know and love. Will we lose them too, if he leaves? I honestly don’t know.
Our whole household is lying in this hospital bed together. We are watching, through the very small crack in the door, all of the commotion going on out in the hallway. We know that we are separated but not gone. We would do anything to able to get up and do our work and move forward with all of this — finish training, finishing organizing for the PCS that was coming up, planning, doing, dreaming… it all goes together. Right now, though, we are only sitting idle — not necessarily restful, just idle. Just waiting. Just wishing and hoping.
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